Roshambo
by Madam Mare
Summary: "Ugh! You are bloody impossible Leopold Fitz!" Jemma exclaimed throwing her hands up in aggravation.


XXXX 

"Ugh! You are bloody impossible Leopold Fitz!"Jemma exclaimed throwing her hands up in aggravation.

Why am I being impossible? It's a perfectly fine name for it. You're just mad that you didn't think of it first," he gloated, "And don't call me Leopold!" he added almost as an afterthought.

As usual, their good natured bantering had turned into an argument. To anyone else it may have looked like a fight between the young couple, but to those who knew them, they were aware that it was standard operating procedure when it came to naming one of their new inventions. They would bicker, one or both would leave in a huff before coming back to apologize to each other and continue to have a calm discussion. And if there was a little snogging in-between, well that was no ones business but their own.

"Beauty and The Beat? Really Fitz?" she asked dryly.

"What?" he asked incredulously, "It's a perfectly reasonable name. Come on, a sound wave that when directed at someone changes the way they see someone. Just think of the possibilities!"

Jemma rolled her eyes, "Impossible! Bloody impossible!" she huffed under her breath as she left the lab and headed to her bunk.

"Well, I think it's a fine name," Fitz said to himself as he set the new device on the table and then headed towards the kitchen. When he arrived, Skye was sitting on the counter, a sleeve of crackers next to her.

"Mornin Skye," he nodded in her direction before pulling the tea out of the cabinet.

"Mornin' Grease Monkey," the young hacker mumbled around a mouthful or crackers. "You and Simmons have another 'discussion'?" she air quoted after swallowing her snack.

"For crying out loud, what is wrong with calling it Beauty and The Beat? I mean it fits in with the DWARFs name."

"Yeah, good luck getting Simmons to accept that explanation," she jumped off the counter and patted Fitz's shoulder on her way out of the kitchen.

Fitz just shook his head and set about making his tea. When he went to put the tin jar back in the cabinet he saw a jar of Jemma's Marmite sitting there and an idea quickly formulated in his head. He knew that Jemma would have gone back to her bunk to read a chapter of her current book, before heading to the kitchen for her favorite snack, toast with Marmite and a cuppa. He quickly overtightened the lid on the tea tin and then grabbed the Marmite and did the same with it before placing the items back. Hearing the unmistakable sound of Jemma coming down the hall, he quickly grabbed his tea and the rest of the crackers that Skye left behind and innocently sat down at the table.

Jemma entered the kitchen and purposefully ignored him as she pulled her mug down from the cabinet and popped a piece of bread in the toaster. Fitz's back was to her, but he could hear her rifling in the silverware drawer for a knife, and then the slight plunk of the tea tin and the jar of Marmite hit the counter. A plate soon followed suit and then the ping signaling that her toast was done.

Fitz took a sip of his tea and waited.

Jemma poured the still steaming water from the kettle into her mug and then went to twist the lid of the tin off to grab a tea bag but was surprised when it didn't unscrew as easily as it usually did. She huffed and tried again with more force but it was refusing to budge. She set the tin down and turned to dress her toast while it was still hot, but once again was unable to remove to lid. She turned to look at Fitz. To the untrained eye, he was sitting there, paying her no mind, but she saw the slight tilt of his head as he paid attention to what was going on behind him.

_The little prat,_ Jemma mussed to herself before gathering her things and joining him at the table.

"Oh! Jemma, I didn't know that was you," Fitz said innocently.

Jemma rolled her eyes, "Can you open this?" she held out the tea tin with a blush, avoiding his eyes.

"Of course!" he replied grinning widely. "Did I over tighten it? I'm sorry."

He quickly removed the lid, plucked out her favorite tea and placed the bag in her steaming mug.

Jemma tried to open the Marmite once more and she felt her face heat up further upon feeling Fitz's eyes on her struggle. Wordlessly she held out the jar to him and he took it with a barely concealed laugh.

"You're cute when you pout," Fitz grinned and easily opened the jar.

Jemma swatted his shoulder, trying to hide her smile, "And you're a prat!"

"But you love me anyways," he snagged her around her hips and pulled her into his lap, lightly ghosting his fingers up her sensitive sides.

"Impossble! Bloody impossible!" Jemma squealed as she tried to squirm away from his dancing fingers.

She quickly quit her squirming when his lips descended on her own.

She relaxed into him and murmured, "I'm sorry."

"Sorry,"Fitz mumbled against her lips at the same time.

"The name isn't too horrible."

"'s'not the best name, we can think of something better."

They again spoke in unison.

"Roshambo for naming rights?" Fitz suggested.

Jemma's eyes lit up and she repositioned herself so that she was facing Fitz, straddling his lap, "Two out of three?"

Fitz nodded and they both made a fist.

Jemma began to count, "One, two, three!" 

~Fini!~


End file.
